


With only dreams of you

by yourbuttervoicedbeau (kiwiana)



Series: Songs from the Jukebox [Prompt Fills] [48]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Caretaking, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, POV David Rose, Sickfic, Tenderness, but like... super minor lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26637469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau
Summary: He’s not too concerned about the plan when he wakes up Saturday morning with a headache, but when at mid-afternoon he starts shivering and his throat begins to ache he begrudgingly realises they might have to rain check.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Songs from the Jukebox [Prompt Fills] [48]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775569
Comments: 38
Kudos: 259





	With only dreams of you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [midnightstreet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightstreet/gifts).



> I was supposed to be writing porn today but then midnightstreet dropped "David is in bed, sick and miserable and unable to sleep, and asks Patrick to sing to him" and what was I supposed to do? As always with Jukebox prompts it’s unedited, barely reread, and written on my phone, so apologies for what I’m sure is a multitude of errors.
> 
> Title is from Frank Sinatra. (It's actually a super depressing song, but... hey.)

They had _plans_ , is the thing. Sexy plans, for the first Saturday night in Patrick’s new apartment, when getting up for work the next morning isn’t a consideration and they don’t have to worry about being overheard by Ray.

(Patrick did point out, though without much bite, that he does still have _neighbours_. David is of the opinion that when you live in an apartment building you’re going to hear the odd sex noise.)

He’s not too concerned about the plan when he wakes up Saturday morning with a headache, but when at mid-afternoon he starts shivering and his throat begins to ache he begrudgingly realises they might have to rain check.

Patrick, of course, notices before he says anything. “David, are you feeling okay?” he asks as he presses his palm to David’s forehead, and David leans into the cool touch.

He shakes his head, regretting it immediately when his temples start to throb. “Not feeling well,” he admits, and wow, something is definitely going on with his throat because his voice comes out scratchy and weak. “I might have to head back to the motel.” He bites his lip and adds, “Sorry,” because some habits are hard to break.

Patrick frowns. “Why would you go back to the motel?”

David’s struggling to parse the question. “Because... I’m sick?”

“David.” Patrick’s frown deepens. “Come back to my place. Let me take care of you.”

Patrick has been so eager, since the confusion over the apartment, to make sure David feels welcome there; giving him a spare key as soon as Patrick got them, leaving a space for his skincare in the bathroom. Still, there’s something about Patrick’s genuine confusion over why David would go to the motel, even when he’s sick and sex is off the table, that feels... incredibly domestic.

David doesn’t hate it.

“Okay,” he says softly, and is rewarded with a wide smile.

* * *

David is tucked up in Patrick’s bed, stomach full of Marcy Brewer’s chicken noodle soup recipe — apparently, Patrick texted her while he was closing the store and asked her to send it so he could make it for David. There’s a large glass of water on the bedside table and the warm weight of Patrick pressed up against his back, rubbing small soothing circles into David’s shoulders.

He can’t remember the last time he felt this cared for, and it’s... a lot. He lets one tear slip free before he gets himself under control, taking a deep shuddering breath that makes Patrick’s hands pause in their ministrations.

“Can I do anything else, David?” he asks, his voice barely a breath in David’s ear.

David thinks _No, you’ve done more than enough already,_ but it seems his mouth has other ideas. “Will you sing to me?” he whispers.

He can feel Patrick freeze behind him, and he worries for a second that he’s being too demanding, but then Patrick leans forward to press a kiss to the nape of his neck and David can feel the smile on his lips.

_“What'll I do when you are far away and I am blue. What’ll I do?”_ Patrick starts softly. David lets his eyes slip shut, Patrick’s voice washing over him as he keeps singing, his hands gentle on David’s shoulders.

“I don’t know that one,” David says when Patrick trails off.

Patrick hums in response. “Frank Sinatra. My mom’s a big fan. She used to sing it to me when I was sick.”

“Mm.” A warm flush spreads through David’s body as he thinks about Patrick using all his mom’s tricks to make David feel better. Like he wants David to feel at home here. “Can I hear it again?”

Patrick kisses his neck a second time. “As many times as you want, David,” he says, his voice full of aching sincerity, before he starts again.

_I think I want you to sing to me forever_ , David thinks but doesn’t say as he drifts into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Come and find me on [Tumblr](http://yourbuttervoicedbeau.tumblr.com).


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